The young woman had found herself planted quiet happily in a soft chair at a two seater table. She watched Dero be seat and gave him a cocky grin. Her startling green eyes twinkled in the pulsing lights of the club, her pouty lips quirked in a fiesty grin.

She sat, leaned into the table her elbow on the table top, her hand supporting her chin. Her long red hair fell in curling waves down her back to pool onto the table and her lap. She wore the usual jeans, leather racing jacket, and a simple black tank top, with a pair of $600 black boots, with four and a half inch heels. Her make up was a light spray of purple, with black eye liner, and soft peachy color for her lips. Rings decorated her fingers, and earrings dangled heavily along her delicate jaw line.

Olivia leaned back, struggling to catch a waiter's attention as she spoke, "You lost so your paying." She gleed, completly avoiding the question. Her attention was on his face now, as watched the lights turn his skin different colors. Due to the sweat from the race, his skin almost sparkled, much like she knew her skin was also doing.

"How about you tell me about yourself instead? Every time we say something, we take a shot?" She grinned brightly, her eyes flashing wickedly. "That way I can beat you at something else." She laughed, a small dainty sound, likes bells ringing.

GuestGuest

Subject: Dreamer Tue Sep 08, 2009 4:06 pm

TICK… TICK… TICK… TOCK… CLICK Tires squeal against thick, black asphalt, dashboards vibrate with bass too loud for city ears as the night falls behind them. Their knuckles turn bone white against the steering wheel, feet flexed hard against the pedals. Then…suddenly, the darkness melts away into an array of rainbow and neon, blazing lights streaming through their dark windows; the adrenaline building, peaking. Car one, a black Viper, shot down through the turn lane and vanished from sight. For a moment, the city lights turned off, letting fear etch its way down his back. Glancing at his back mirror, he saw only the blackness and moon stuck high above until he was flying by a million parked cars on the side of the street. The back alley ways were dirty, full of secrets to shameful to think of. Not even the stars gleamed here, seemingly not worthy enough to spark the less grateful lives, he thought mildly, smile creasing his more than perfect lips. Above, the lights beckoned him back to reality, the bouncing bodies inside clubs, and to the girl in the yellow Porsche that just zipped by in a neon flash. Weaving in and out of honking cars, passing silently like a bewildered hornet, the yellow Porsche, the second car, crossed the fantastically lit bridge in record time. The Viper didn’t stand a chance against her, she knew, and her brightly lit smile showed it. There was no definition of defeat in this new world holding danger and exotic fun; where the rich stayed young and the players swung out the sun. It was the age to live in. Not even the police could tame the wild street racers and daring young that surpassed time itself. The Viper came up beside the Porsche, the two magnificent cars side by side as other, lesser cars maneuvered away to let them past. Sirens blared behind them, wailing, demanding, and then fading when they couldn’t keep up. No justice for this star stuck night, they thought; they knew. They were only on the outskirts of the city, blending with the shadows until the end of the bridge erupted, devoured by the white beams of inner city lights. The buildings arched against the sky, so tall they overtook the skies beauty. Darkness didn’t belong here anymore. It was the beginning of a new age that held promise to the stable youth, led by the rebellions in the underbelly, waiting to burst open and shout to the world. Loud music of different varieties, mostly stationed around electronica, flew out onto the streets where hundreds of people waited within the lines, dancing and chatting, or yelling at the guards who refused to let them in. It was the hottest place in the inner city, the place to be as people liked to say. It was the cities main source of income, the main thing holding everyone else up on tiny government made strings. Still, it was a comfortable way of living. No one was complaining. The two cars pulled up next to the club, making people stop and stare and skitter out of the way. Seeing fancy, expensive cars weren’t rare, but the Viper and the Porsche belonged to two very special people in this society. The driver of the Viper got out first, slamming his door and waiting outside of the yellow Porsche with an exasperated sigh. “You cheated,” he said as the door opened. A young woman got out, smirking and closed the Porsches door. “Me cheating? I’m just good enough to beat you.” She ran her fingers over his chest before skipping away toward the club’s entrance. “Come on, Dero! Time’s ticking.” To Dero, it was ironic how he swore to never fall for a woman again, and yet, just days ago, he’d met a woman unlike any he’d met in the underground world of illegal street racing. To him, she was both a mystery and a person who stood for her morals, rather than bending herself to a man’s liking. Without another moment’s hesitation, Dero followed her into the club and found her sitting at a table, motioning him over. His lips curved into a smirk as he took a seat. “You still haven’t told me where you’re from or will we replay the guessing game? I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours.”

OOC: Dero, age 23. He’s from Germany—the role play doesn’t have to take place here, anywhere is fine. I would like someone to play the female, who was in the yellow Porsche— flirtatious, tough, a girl with morals. Whatever content appears depends solely on who joins and what they are comfortable with.